


Experiment

by Strigimorphaes (orphan_account)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Confusion, Short, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Strigimorphaes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker maybe-kinda-sorta likes guys. Donut helps him find out, but it isn't easy for Tucker after he has been spending so much time building up his reputation as a womanizer.<br/>It's like he's an awkward virgin all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiment

"Fuck." Tucker lets his hands fall down into his lap. "I can't do this."

The bedsprings creak underneath his weight as he leans backwards, the wall cold against his bare skin. He's shirtless, but that's all - his underwear, pants, shoes, it's all still on. Donut, sitting crosslegged in front of him on the other end of the bed, is fully clothed too. That's sort of the root of the problem.

Tucker isn't like Sarge, who gets panicky when out of his armor. It's the situation, Donut's gaze, that makes it all weird.

It was pretty easy up until then - a funny-in-hindsight series of misunderstandings and small arguments that ended with something along the lines of, "Well, maybe I do want you to be gay for me, huh?" and Donut had been standing there, a little taken aback. Tucker had been taken aback by his own words too, had muttered something about "Oh fuck it, we should just..." And they had kissed, and that had been nice. Far nicer than Tucker had thought it could be. And he had been a little out of breath and they had parted then and there, Donut being called away by Sarge to do some menial task.

They had kissed again later that day.

Then it had kind of become a habit. Enduring the jokes - like Simmons and Grif weren't having those kinds of thoughts themselves - and patiently inching closer to each other.

Tucker didn't even really know if he loved the other man, the very thought strange to him, or if he was just interested in... In all the strange things he felt when they kissed, in wanting more of that. But there they were, a few weeks later in his bed and Tucker -

\- Tucker had let Donut pull off his shirt, his hands had been inches away from Tucker's shoulders and Tucker had stopped, then.

"I can't do this," he repeats.

"Oh," Donut says. He draws back a bit, watching Tucker as he breathes in deeply. "What's the matter?"

"It's just..."

"If you don't want to, just say it. "

"And you'll do what - go back to your base and redecorate?"

"Maybe." Donut shrugs. "I've been meaning to do something about the awful colour scheme in the kitchen. But seriously, I can take care of-"

"Your boner, yeah."

"I..." Donut begins reaching for his shirt on the floor, the movement making the bed creak again.

"Don't." Tucker leans forward and puts his hand too lightly on Donut's shoulder. "It's just... I've only ever imagined myself with a woman, y'know?"

Donut stopped, sat up again and looked at Tucker. "Um, okay?" he says, the words halfway between aknowledgement and question.

"That's how it is and it's... Weird. Like, you're not weird, I am. With this."

"I had expected something else."

"Because I'm the pervert with the one-track mind. Bow-chicka-bow-wow an' all that." Tucker looks away, shifting uncomfortably. Creak, creak.

"We could just-" Donut is cut off by Tucker immediately.

"No. Let's just get on with it," Tucker continues, his hand moving slowly to Donut's neck, the other man tilting his head to allow it to rest there. Tucker moves closer.

It wasn't like he had imagined it at all. Sex, for him, was about women who were almost alien to him what with all the time he spent in the military. It was grabbing one another, moving passionately, hands and mouths not able to move quickly enough - it was all action, no words. And here he is, twenty centimeters between him and Donut. They both sit crosslegged and the air is cool, they move slowly and speak too much. He can't fall into the pattern of kisses down the neck and strong, swift movements; the body in front of him is everything but what he had imagined he'd face. And because of all of that, Tucker doesn't feel like he can take the lead. Not taking the lead is a kinda scary prospect.

Donut raises his arms so Tucker can pull of his shirt.

He's surprisingly lean underneath it; angular, almost. Familiar is the word that comes to Tucker's mind. He has seen a man naked before, of course he has; he has walked in on showers and cleaned wounds. It's just seeing an old thing in a new light, that light being the weak lamp in his room. It casts a blue glow over Donut's hands (not as rough as Tucker's own, but still too broad, not a woman's) as he places them on Tucker's and leans in for a kiss - and then Tucker can at least close his eyes and just concentrate on the feeling of it, on the warmth and scent as he lets one hand wander up into Donut's hair, pulling him closer. When he opens his eyes again he is vaguely aware of Donut doing his best to undo Tucker's pants and now, he's feeling more and more impatient as he shifts position to make it easier to get out of his clothing.

He opens his eyes. He's staring at a man, but the feeling in his gut is the same as when he thinks about women, heat building everywhere inside him.

Donut notices the change and, sitting on the edge of the bed, removes his own pants, kicking off his shoes before flashing Tucker a quick smile.

"Better?"

"Shut up," Tucker says, "Hurry up."

It's almost annoying when Donut doesn't. He has to dart over to the chair in the corner where he left his jacket an eternity ago and get something from an inner pocket. He smiles like an apology when he returns to bed. Tucker doesn't say anything, but the moment Donut comes close - real close, no clothes separating them anymore - he gasps involuntarily. He doesn't think the other man notices. Good. He leans against the wall as Donut kisses him, supporting himself with a knee on either side of Tucker's body.

Tucker's body, at least, is not confused. What Donut is doing, touching him, that feels good, and the sight of him makes him excited in every sense of the word. Hands travel down his torso to his hips, rubbing soft circles by the outcroppings of his hip bones. For a second, they're gone again, and Tucker observes as Donut pours lube onto his hand. So that was what he had to get from his jacket, Tucker thinks, then his thoughts go in en entirely different direction when a broad hand starts to stroke him - the first touch makes Tucker exhale as his fingers grip tighter onto Donut's hair. Then he lets go. He knows the sensations he's feeling, intimately familiar with the feel of a hand coaxing small sounds from his throat, and that this is a known constant makes it easier for him. The lube makes it feel a bit different from what he's used to, but he deals. He touches Donut's shoulders, his arms, the valleys of his collarbones; he's not as muscular as Tucker, but neither of them see any flaw in that.

"Is it good?" Donut asks. He licks his lips, a pink (or lightish red, Tucker thinks) colour appearing on his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's-" Tucker stammers, "It's nice." His hand stops by Donut's waist. "Do you want me to...?"

He can't really get the words out just because he never thought he'd actually say anything relating to the act of giving a handjob. Donut understands, though, and tries to sound casual, but Tucker can hear a light strain of need in his voice that makes him reach out for the other man's erection before Donut can answer, his breath warm against Tucker's neck as he says, "If you want-"

Whatever he had to say after that gets lost as he swallows hard and presses himself closer to Tucker whose left hand is back in Donut's hair now, pulling lightly at the dark blonde locks. The lines of their bodies run parallel; Tucker can feel skin against his own in so many places. Donut's legs are shaky as his mouth seeks out Tucker's neck again and again, leaving marks hopefully hidden by the armor tomorrow. He presses their lengths together, let's them slide and rub against each other and Tucker helps, does his best to move along and find some kind of rhythm. It's a different kind of thing than what he's used to, but it's not something he can write up as worse or better, just different.

"Could you - " Tucker says, his voice not as steady as he'd have liked - "Faster, that'd be - good - Donut-"

"You can use my name if you want to," Donut suggests, the movements of his hand slowing down as he speaks - and Tucker wonders if it's just so that he can hear the way Tucker fails to hold conversation while being jerked off.

"I think I've been in the army - too long," Tucker says. "All these nicknames just sound like names to me now."

"It's Franklin-" Donut begins, and Tucker cuts him off with a flick of his wrist, the soft flesh under his hand sliding just so.

"That's a weird name."

"Yeah, Lavernius..."

Tucker stops moving, stays still, and Donut follows his lead.

"Shut up," Tucker says - he knows is face is probably red now, but it's only partially embarrassment. "I'm not gonna call you Franklin in the middle of this, that's for sure. Christ, even Donut is a sexier name than-"

"Yeah, my mother didn't choose my name based on how sexy it sounded," Donut injects, "But I don't really think I care what you call me, just... Let's get back to it?"

Tucker looks down between them, then up at Donut's face, then - yeah, he can get back to the task at hand, no pun intended.

He likes the thought that when he starts to stroke Donut again, he knows what his partner is feeling. Same parts involved, after all.

It doesn't take long before Donut's breath comes in gasps and Tucker is vaguely aware that his own does too - to be honest, he isn't really noticing much but what is happening between his and Donut's hands, between the rhythm of their bodies and the small thrusts he manages until he feels like he can't last much longer.

It's been a while.

Donut seems to notice the pleading look Tucker sends him and his movements quicken even as he steadies himself. For a moment, Tucker imagines how it'd be to actually be inside him, to make him move more like this, to be in more control of the situation - then all thoughts fade out of his mind for a blessed second when he comes, muscles clenching and nails digging into Donut's shoulder as if to prove that he can make marks, too. Donut looks at him so fondly when Tucker lets all the tension of his body out in one satisfied sigh.

Tucker spends a moment just feeling, aware of his heartbeat, which is unusual for him. Then he realizes that Donut still hasn't come, that he's still flushed and needy and somehow, Tucker is glad that he's able to concentrate on his partner now. He resumes stroking Donut, going quicker and quicker because well, he's never been really patient. His other hand leaves Donut's shoulder in favour of the faint curve of his back, resting there.

Now it's his turn to ask if it's good, but all he gets in response is a hum in agreement. Donut shivers and Tucker feels faint tremors everywhere their skin touches. His hand grips Tucker's tightly before letting it go within seconds, giving Tucker the impression that Donut only wanted something, anything, to grasp until he's spent, withdrawing slowly from Tucker and the whole sticky mess inbetween them. Tucker notes that this is another thing that is different: double the cleanup. Oh well, he can make some sacrifices.

For now, Donut sits beside him, still warm - Tucker is warm too, and sweaty and - okay.

"Fuck," he says, but it itsn't really a curse. It's just because he doesn't feel like finding the right words, so he hopes that kind of covers all the bases of why didn't I do that sooner and I don't know what I had expected and I'm glad it was with you and I don't know if I will have time to shower before Church gets back and I know he'll know and it'll be awkward.

"I liked that," Donut states.

"Yeah," Tucker agrees.

He leans against Donut, listens absentmindedly to his breathing. "Could you help me with the sheets in a sec? Church and Caboose are coming back any minute now and... You know. Oh, and couldn't we do it at your place next time?"

Donut looks a little taken aback by the fact that there is already a next time, but he speaks anyway. "Sure to the sheets. But, um, Red Base? Not a good place for anything remotely intimate, trust me."

"Why not? They seem to be pretty accepting of you and your pink armor an' all."

"What does my armor have to do with anything?" Donut asks, completely oblivious.

Tucker rolls his eyes. "I mean your... The fact they you behave - that you're - " he sighs softly. "You're almost offensively, stereotypically gay."

"I am?" Donut asks. "I mean," he continues, "I'm not gay."

"What."

"I'm, like, a three on the Kinsey scale."

"There's a _scale_?"

All Tucker understands is that they may be having a conversation meant for another time. Luckily for him, Donut seems to agree.

"Look, I can educate later, okay? The main thing is: Red base is a no go since Sarge doesn't believe in privacy as a concept."

"That sounds..."

"Horrible. It is." Donut shakes his head. "Countless sessions of alone time ruined when he kicks in the door."

"By 'alone time', do you mean-"

"I light some candles, have a gass of wine, spend some time looking inwards and finding positive energy. That kind of thing. Anyway," Donut continues, standing up, "If the others are coming back, we should hurry."

"Oh, right." Tucker is a bit slower as he leaves the bed, too, bending down to gather some of his clothes from the floor.

"You just go shower, I'll handle some of this."

Tucker stands there, staring at Donut who stands, naked, in front of the bed still marked and with bed-hair.

"Got it," he says, "I'll... See you in a sec, Franklin."

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to explore Tucker's feelings towards sexuality?  
> (Also I imagine Sarge would be just as disgusted by walking in on Donut's calming soft-music-and-meditation sessions as if he'd actually caught him masturbating).


End file.
